One Image, Several Writers, Daily Words. The site about Interpretation, Inspiration and Improvisation.

Beneath The Skin

She had given up on the prospect of sleep hours ago and instead embraced the opportunity to enjoy the shadows. Rising from the bed her arm caught the tray of medication always close at hand. She ignored its taunts – refusing to be bullied by its overgrown sense of importance. In the dark her senses became amplified and the thick carpet beneath her feet felt glorious and she stood for a while sliding her feet back and forth-enjoying its caress.

There was a full moon veiling the garden in a silver light. The mystery it cast drew her closer to the window. The chill of the glass kept her captive – resting her fevered brow upon that of her twinned reflection. Opening her eyes she looked upon her own ghostly features. Her head seemed to be hovering over the pool as if about to plummet into the water. Smiling, she congratulated herself for suggesting such a good idea.

Walking through the house she paid particular attention to the changing surfaces beneath her feet. The slate floor tiles in the kitchen causing her to pause once more – enjoying their caress.

Before entering the garden she threw the switch of the poolside lights – they were not needed. The moon was more than enough and seemed amplified as the lights faded to little more than echoes burnt upon her retina. The patio tiles were rougher than those in the kitchen but just as coldly comforting. She refrained from rubbing her soles against them – an open wound could set her back months.

Giggling to herself she began to undress. Turning to face the moon she raised her arms above her head and imagined the silver light leaving a film of glitter on her skin and in her hair. She laughed out loud at the idea of a lunar vajazzle. Her hands fell to her pubis – suddenly self conscious.

The flat surface of the pool beckoned to her. ‘Come make ripples’ it said. ‘Shout, scream, cry!’ it said. ‘Tear and claw at the confines of this illness’ it implored. Diving in, she was shocked by the intimate ways the water pulled and pushed at her skin. Her body had felt more and more like the property of science. Intimacy gone she was more used to the hands of doctors, consultants, nurses.

Lying on her back staring up at the night sky she noticed the feeling of weightlessness – everything fell away.

Amanda Bird

Amanda has always thought of herself as an armchair traveller, and since early childhood books and stories have provided the portal to other worlds.
Her love of reading sparked a passion for writing and she has been writing stories since... a very long time ago!
She now lives in Hove, and the view allows space for her imagination to roam.